


General Drabbles

by stephanericher



Series: Drabbles [2]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-01
Updated: 2013-12-19
Packaged: 2017-12-28 04:16:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/987546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephanericher/pseuds/stephanericher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a collection of non-romantic Kuroko no Basuke drabbles written in 2013, originally posted on tumblr. Various characters, ratings, genres and themes</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

1\. Only Human (Koganei Shinji, Kiyoshi Teppei, 201 wds, PG)

Koganei Shinji brushes off feelings of inadequacy like dandruff from his jacket. While it's true that he's never the best at anything, he's never the worst, either. He works at things and gets better, but it's gradual and even when he works he never gets to the top (of course, he's not the best at working hard and being persistent). He can always find some area or niche in which he's better than each person he knows, anyway—not that he's all that competitive, but it's nice to know.

Then he meets Kiyoshi Teppei and plays basketball with him and realizes that not only is Kiyoshi better than him at basketball in general and at every skill, he's better at every position. It's an odd feeling to see someone that far above him, someone so talented—it takes his breath away.

But Kiyoshi's only human, after all. It's not that Koganei's climbing up the mountain to reach Kiyoshi's status; Kiyoshi falls. He's a supernova, the sickening sound of his knee failing as he burns even brighter a sign of what is sure to be a fall that's hardly graceful (that sound haunts Koganei's dreams for longer than he'll care to admit).

* * *

2\. Grow (Fukuda Hiroshi, Mitobe Rinnosuke, 199 wds, G)

The first time Fukuda Hiroshi enters a game is in his second year. The first time he gets the ball, the result is a turnover. It's hard for him to not look at himself as a failure—after all, it's midway through the year and everyone else on the team has started a game before he has even gotten a chance to play in one. Of course, he knows there are more contributing factors than his own ineptitude—the fact that there are always too many centres, especially with their phenomenal new freshman. Still, after the turnover he makes a block, although it's bordering on being a foul (it doesn't draw a whistle, though) and the other team regains possession. Still, it's something.

Their next time out, the freshman is subbed back in. Fukuda sits on the bench; no one speaks to him (they're all watching Izuki dribble). Fukuda feels pressure on his hand; he looks up. Mitobe cocks his head at Fukuda and looks into his eyes—and says, silently,  _don't get too caught up in the moment. You'll get another chance soon._  Fukuda can't help but believe him, although he will concede that he's sometimes foolishly optimistic.

* * *

3\. Reflection (Sakamoto Kenjirou, 220 wds, G)

They were supposed to be kings, nigh-unbeatable, titans. And for a while they were, for a magical moment (for what now seems like a moment) Sakamoto Kenjirou was part of that, the glorious tradition of Seihou, one that continued on and would continue forever, they said. Sakamoto was a backup when they won the Interhigh in his first year, celebrated with the team but did not fully get it, did not fully feel like a part of the team. He got some playing time in the Winter Cup, where they finished a respectable third place behind Yosen and Touou, and he began to take pride in himself, as a basketball player and especially as a Seihou player.

And then of course it came crashing down on him, the rapid descent to fifth place in the following Winter Cup and that awful loss to Seirin at the Interhigh the next year.

He has ingrained this pride in himself, and so have his teammates, and they no longer have very much to be proud of. They tried hard, but somehow, somewhere along the line that wasn't enough. They could have squeezed in a little extra practice, focus, resolve.

He keeps telling himself this. It's easier to blame yourself than to admit that the other team was simply better than you, isn't it?

* * *

4\. Champagne (Fukui Kensuke, Kasuga Ryuuhei, 369 wds, PG13)

Each year, they'd seen each other at the final. They'd met during the season, of course, had played against each other, had recognized the other's team as formidable opponents. Of course, each year they'd vowed to the other that he would be the one to revel in the glory, how he'd pop a bottle of champagne with his teammates.

Of course, this year neither one made it to the final four, let alone won the whole thing. This time, there's no next year, no vow. They're just like everyone else; only a small sliver of their number ever gets to experience this type of glory, this rush of victory. It had been a pipe dream, anyhow, right?

"Fuck this," Fukui mutters at halftime, to no one in particular. Okamura raises an eyebrow as Fukui hightails to the exit, minus his coat. He'll be back, maybe only for a slimmer of the fourth quarter but he's not planning on leaving completely. Kasuga, it seems has had the same idea as him. They stand with their backs to the wall as exited fans chatter around them, some faces that they recognize and some that they don't.

"It's a good match," Kasuga says. He's slumped slightly, and Fukui, standing straight, seems taller than him in this moment.

Fukui knows he's probably bursting with analysis; he's always been that kind of guy—but that it's leaving a bitter taste in his mouth because  _it should be him_. It's impossible to be less narcissistic than they are, but they've been telling themselves the whole time that this is their destiny. How can they extract their own dreams now?

They stand in silence, each man lost in his own thoughts. The public address announcer warns that there are five minutes left until halftime is over. Kasuga cocks his head toward the entrance to the seating section. Fukui nods.

This is no time to be self-absorbed. Kasuga's right; it's a hell of a good match, and right now he's got to put this shit behind him because whatever the end it'll be interesting. He's had his chance; the day and the glory belongs to one of these two teams. He'll keep telling himself that, at least.

* * *

5\. Silence (Seto Kentarou, 251 wds, PG)

They sell those worthless machines to make white noise, things that supposedly help people sleep. They also sell headphones to cancel the noise, to make the world silent around someone's ears. Repetition, whether of a sound or of silence, really isn't conducive to rest, Seto decides as he's drifting off in practice while the irregular squeak of sneakers on wood is punctuated by an occasional shout. It's a cacophony that's mixed with the creak of the shifting weight of the boards on the bench. This, this gathering of sound, it's more comfortable, he thinks. That's his last coherent thought as he falls into a deep sleep, slumped over on the bench.

He's the type of guy who can fall asleep anywhere, under any circumstances, but he doesn't always fall asleep right away. If he lies still in the dark for a few minutes he's always sure to drift off anyway, but it's better when he's on the train and the conductor is making an announcement or the person beside him is talking, and when he's in class and there's an open discussion with a clash of his classmates' ugly voices and when he's at home and the cars are driving by and the people are fighting all night long and the alley cats are meowing at one another. When it's loud and random he falls asleep trying to make sense of the pattern, so interested he doesn't notice the steady rhythm of his own breathing and the weightlessness in his limbs.

* * *

6\. Stirring of the Wind (Okamura Kenichi, Imayoshi Shouichi, 195 wds, G)

It's been a long time since they've met; a season has come and gone; the wind is cold and bitter now. They are both in the process of shedding their titles, the burdens that have been weighing down their shoulders, burdens that reached their peak weight back in the summer. Their heirs are argumentative, and their reigns will be interesting to say the least. But now is an awkward moment and they are caught between the past, between things they had spent ages cultivating and building up carefully, and a blank, wide-open future where they must start from the bottom again.

"You know, it's good to be in Tokyo," Okamura says, raising his hands above his head so that it feels like he towers even more over Imayoshi than he actually does.

Imayoshi laughs. 'That's because you're from here."

Okamura joins him in laughter. It's good sometimes to make stupid small talk like this, because even that much can help build up your relationship, and even if it all comes tumbling down like a sand castle beneath the waves, it will have been there, even if you two were the only ones to see it.


	2. Chapter 2

7\. Letters (Ogiwara Shigehiro, 262 wds, PG13)

He tries to block it from his mind, but of course he cannot. He goes on internet forums, looks for hope, ways to let go.  _Slit your wrists, beat the person up, just smile a fake smile and soon it will become real, hypnotize yourself, go to therapy, just man up and forget_ —nothing seems like a viable solution, really. Here, no one knows his name so it would be easier to put on a smile because no one would pity him—but somehow he can't bring himself to lift his eyes from the ground.

 _Write letters_ , he sees at the bottom of a page.  _Write letters to the people you know, but don't send them_.

He starts out,  _Dear Mochida, Dear Kuroko,_ and so on and so forth, but even though he knows they won't read the letters he really has nothing to say to his (former) friends. He starts a letter to his coach, a letter to the girl who sat next to him in class—but these don't seem appropriate either.

Finally, he prints,  _Dear Akashi-san_ , and from there the words start flowing. Questions, accusations, statements, everything, even things unrelated to basketball and unrelated to friendship and teamwork and morals and everything. He starts off preachy and stiff and ends conversational, as if speaking to a friend.

He touches the tip of his cigarette to the paper. The smoke curls off and dissolves into the air and the corner of the paper withers, blackened now. He feels just a little bit better, and maybe that little bit is enough.

* * *

8\. Sharp (Shirogane Kouzou, Takeuchi Genta, 326 wds, G)

Shirogane Eiji is a sharp man. Takeuchi's not going to say it to his face, but his brother Kouzou is even sharper. He notices things that even Eiji doesn't, and his leadership skills—well, how is it possible to be a better leader than the captain of a national sports team? Apparently it is possible, somehow, and Takeuchi can't take time to marvel about it.

He acts like a pest, bugging the guy who always ends up tagging along, whether by Eiji's request (well, okay, they're never really requests with Eiji) and inviting himself over to Kouzou's apartment, asking him about what he thinks of this and that and how he could help Takeuchi become a better basketball player. All the guys on the team, and even some of the bolder members of the women's team, tease him about it, telling him he's just like a loyal little dog. But then it's Takeuchi's turn to laugh when his game improves, when his tactics improve, when he starts to offer decent advice to the other players.

It's natural that both he and Kouzou would end up as basketball coaches, Kouzou for the most prestigious of all those sports-factory middle schools and Takeuchi for a high school with a strong basketball tradition. Kouzou even nudges a few of his players Takeuchi's way, and they're among the best Takeuchi's ever had the privilege to teach—excellent fundamentals, good work ethic, and a will to win above all else.

Then, Kouzou gets sick, and Takeuchi visits him in the hospital, incredibly worried. But Kouzou greets him with a smile, tells him all about this kid who's a natural and Kouzou has just started coaching him—he reminds Kouzou of Takeuchi a bit, and Takeuchi's not sure what he means by this and can't ask because visiting time is over.

He calls Kouzou up after Kise's first practice. "Was I really this much of an airhead?" he says.

Kouzou just laughs.

* * *

9\. Physics (Mochida, Furihata Kouki, 414 wds, PG)

Furihata's never seen this kid before but he's destroying his opponent in one-on-one, faking and dribbling around him and taking very wise, conservative shots. He's a very good player, and he plays in a sort of familiar style. Furihata's quite sure he faced something of the sort at some point—possibly in a rec league against a rival basketball academy, or maybe in middle school. Most of it blends together.

His fingers clench around the wire of the fence. The match is really exciting, and he can't wait to see what this guy's going to do next, but his opponent throws up his hands and gives up, striding out through the gates, winded but still wanting to salvage the tiniest bit of pride.

The other guy frowns and shoots the ball from where he's standing, a few feet behind the free-throw line. It goes in with a decisive swish. Glancing around, he spots Furihata.

"Hey, want to play?"

"…me?" Furihata squeaks out.

The guy shrugs. "If you don't want to, that's fine, too."

"No, wait!" He jogs around and into the court, thankful that he decided to wear athletic shorts today. The guy gives him first possession, something he weakly protests but is grateful for. As fun as he is to watch, he's really intimidating. Finally, before they start, they exchange names—he's Mochida, a name that totally doesn't ring a bell. Furihata isn't sure whether it's prying to ask where he went to middle school or if he played in a rec league, so he just takes the ball and starts dribbling.

He hasn't been able to warm up (Furihata cringes as he hears Coach Riko's angry shouts in his head but continues playing nonetheless) so Mochida gets the early lead. Still, Furihata's managing to stay with him and manages to get around Mochida's defense. He's got an excellent dribble, though, and he shoots a fairly decent three, so on the defensive side Furihata doesn't have much of a chance. Still, he can keep the deficit from widening.

It turns out Coach's horrible exercises have paid off, because Mochida loses half a step while Furihata's still going strong and he manages to steal the ball and drive past him a few times. Finally, though, they both agree to stop because Mochida's getting pretty tired. The score is tied and it is getting a bit late, so Furihata decides to go on home.

He wonders if he'll ever see this guy again. Probably not.

* * *

10\. Never Again (Kasamatsu Yukio, Moriyama Yoshitaka, 165 wds, PG13)

They're graduating, and all Kasamatsu Yukio can think is  _fucking finally_. He won't have to deal with shitty high school classes and crowded hallways and these teachers who have made his life hard. He won't have to wear a stupid uniform anymore (he seriously never wants to see this particular shade of grey ever again) and he won't have to deal with certain annoying classmates. By "certain annoying classmates" Kasamatsu of course means Moriyama Yoshitaka. Seriously, if they exchange absolutely zero words after this it will be great.

Of course, after the ceremony Moriyama is hanging out uselessly beneath a cherry tree, offering his buttons to the girls who are practically running away. Kasamatsu certainly won't miss this guy's annoying obsession with romance and finding the perfect girl. Still, no matter how much he wants to laugh or roll his eyes at Moriyama, he finds there's something caught in his throat and in his eyes.

Damn it. He really is going to miss that idiot.

* * *

11\. Snow (Papa Mbaye Siki, 173 wds, PG13)

It doesn't snow in Senegal. Yeah, he's heard about snow, seen pictures of it, but it seems bizarre, removed from reality. Is it fluffy? It's frozen water, so isn't that just ice? But how is it so opaque? Is it just cotton candy with no food coloring?

He doesn't think of snow often, until somehow he ends up in Japan on a basketball scholarship. His teammates are curious about Senegal, but his Japanese is so shitty at first that it doesn't make a difference and he can't answer their questions because they're saying things that weren't in his language textbook.

By the time it snows, he understands more, speaks the language better, can adequately express himself and say in perfect Japanese, "What the hell is this?"

"It's  _snow_ ," one of his teammates says, both exasperated with his short temper and amused by his lack of familiarity with what to him is normal precipitation.

It's not fluffy or sticky or really all that much like regular ice. Still, he might grow to like it.


	3. Chapter 3

12\. Light (Ootsubo Taisuke, Kiyoshi Teppei, 222 wds, PG)

Ootsubo knows, of course, because Ootsubo sees these things. He's quite observant and doesn't interfere when he shouldn't (but he interferes absolutely when he should); this is part of what makes him a good captain. He knows Kiyoshi's knee injury isn't just a small thing, that he won't rest and get it better. Of course, everyone knows what happened—but Ootsubo knows what's going to happen, that which Kiyoshi is trying (and seemingly in vain) to hide.

They don't speak much; they're old comrades, treading somewhere between acquaintances, rivals and friends. They're both pushing for the same something, and this is their last chance to get there, to be number one. It's likely that neither one of them will get there, but winning it all is, can be, within their grasps.

"In the end, though, it's not us, is it?"

Kiyoshi shakes his head, smiling. Ootsubo knows exactly how to phrase it. They're not pretending to not be integral parts of their teams, but the blatant glory-seeking is better left to someone who has the fire of a Miyaji or a Hyuuga, the unlimited ceiling of a Takao or a Kagami—they are the ones more intricately involved, the ones who control the finer points and make the most difference. Even if Kiyoshi had made that free throw—but enough about that.

* * *

13\. Courage (Hyuuga Junpei, Izuki Shun, 159 wds, G)

It takes courage to assume a leadership role, to be the first one to say what must be said, to hold things together, to take matters into one's own hands. It takes a different kind of courage to hold back and let things unfold, to have others take up the mantle because it is their time, to recognize such a thing and look it right in the face and not to shout back at it and attempt to defy it and to not back down. Hyuuga is a rare specimen; he possesses both kinds of courage and uses his discretion to pick and choose which to use. Occasionally he's wrong, but it's really not all that often, and Hyuuga admits his mistakes and moves on.

Izuki wants to praise that courage, to thank Hyuuga for it—but really, there's no point. In the end, Hyuuga would rather be recognized for other things, and he deserves as much as that.

* * *

14\. Drive (Liu Wei, Wakamatsu Kousuke, 212 wds, PG)

Liu Wei's mouth turns up in a sneer, as it so often does when he feels insulted, upon his first introduction to Wakamatsu Kousuke. The kid's a shrimp—probably 190 centimeters tall, maybe less, and he's just reached two meters himself. Said shrimp is supposed to be guarding him this game? Is Touou's coach out of his mind?

Oh, he's heard this and that about Touou's strength but he hears stuff like that about every school and now is not the day when some other freshman gets the better of him.

Wakamatsu tries, and he's far better than Liu was expecting—which still isn't saying much. Still, he's got a very good jump and is quite aggressive, meaning Liu has to take farther shots or pass the ball over his head or try to wait back and get a less-than-optimal release on his shot so he can wait for Wakamatsu to come down. Besides, offense is not Yosen's main priority, and Liu easily shuts Wakamatsu down defensively (and Yosen wins).

"Better luck next time, Shrimp," Liu says after the game, sneer in full force.

Wakamatsu swears a blue streak at him—and there are even some words in there that Fukui hasn't taught him yet. Hmm. He'll have to pick those up.

* * *

15\. Butterfly (Momoi Satsuki, Kise Ryouta, 124 wds, PG)

Momoi slams the magazine on the table. She wants to tear it to shreds, tear the writer to shreds because he does not know  _anything_  about basketball or metaphors or Ki-chan. He's got some kind of nerve, comparing her Ki-chan to a butterfly. Sure, he's beautiful (although in the list of really important things about him that's fairly low down) and it's taken him a long time to catch up, but he was a prodigy from the very beginning, even before he knew it and before anyone knew it. He's like rough silk that's been strung into the toughest, most beautiful thread that can withstand so much weight. Butterflies are transient, pinned down easily; their lives are only so long. He's got staying power.

* * *

16\. Logic (Seto Kentarou, Furuhashi Koujirou, Hara Kazuya, 165 wds, PG13)

Filling out these career forms is so dumb. Hara purposefully forgets his, but he looks at Seto's anyway, tucked under his folded arm that creates a makeshift pillow for his head because he's asleep yet again, and the list reads "1. Lawyer 2. Lawyer 3. Lawyer". Hara snorts and jerks his head toward Furuhashi; Furuhashi kicks Seto in the back.

"A lawyer?"

Seto doesn't bother to lift his sleep mask or, for that matter, his head. "If I'm a lawyer I can sleep a lot. It's basically waiting for the other side to return your contracts."

"So not, like, court cases?"

Seto doesn't answer. Either he's ignoring Hara or he's gone back to sleep.

"That's the shittiest logic I've ever heard. Don't they have logic on the law school entrance exams? How are you going to pass that?" By now, Hara knows he's talking out of his ass. Seto can be very logical, but only when he wants to be. Which is apparently not now.

* * *

17\. Nowhere and Nothing (Shirogane Eiji, 142 wds, PG)

Sometimes he likes the void, drives out and away from Kyoto toward nowhere and nothing. His hands shake because the night in a shiny car is best enjoyed with a cigarette—but it's too much of a risk with all the heart problems in his family. Back when he was younger, he could drive out of Tokyo in the middle of the night alone like a ghost back when it was so much less developed—he'd think about the future, then, tomorrow's game, the next Olympics, what he'd be doing when he was fifty. Now he thinks about the past, whether he used the right lineup or done the right training schedule because if he'd trained better he'd have lasted longer. He thinks about other cars that felt better to drive in and the smell of the cigarettes he used to smoke.

* * *

18\. Eight Seconds (Momoi Satsuki, Susa Yoshinori, Mayuzumi Chihiro, 230 wds, PG)

Eight seconds, that's all it takes. She'd given Susa as much warning as she could, but really, when it all came down to it he had to actually play the game and she couldn't—she couldn't go one-on-one, power forward against power forward. Imayoshi had nodded, because he knew, too, knew exactly what was going to happen. It wasn't Susa's fault, of course—and had it been almost any other forward in the country he was up against (even perhaps Kise) she'd bet on Susa. But this is Rakuzan, and in the eight seconds against Mayuzumi Chihiro Susa is destroyed. He tries, stays with him a few milliseconds longer than she'd expected, but ultimately, he fails and Mayuzumi finds the infinitesimal crack in the wall and breaks through it and passes the ball, floating, to Nebuya, who slams it into the hoop with more force than even a regular slam dunk.

There is time on the clock left, but no matter how hard they fight it will not be enough. Rakuzan has sealed their win, sealed their Interhigh title, even without their captain and ace against what is basically a full Touou team (Aomine never plays more than half a match, anyway). His eyes meet hers as he jogs down the court, past the Touou bench. There is neither fire nor ice in them; there is only hard, solid steel.

* * *

19\. Enthusiasm (Nijimura Shuuzou, 148 wds, KPG)

He passes a kid on the street who stomps his foot and sweeps his arm down, on the way from his first job to his second, momentarily distracted from the physics formulas he's regurgitating to himself in his head, trying to ingrain them for the test tomorrow. The kid is grinning like this is the most important thing in his life and his teeth sparkle not because they're clean but because—Nijimura can't afford to be sentimental right now, can't afford to be distracted. He's already going to be cutting it close, time-wise.

Still, as he mindlessly takes customers' orders of onion rings and chicken fingers and hamburgers and French fries and sodas (no, we don't have an extra-large size) he can't help but think of that kid again and again. What was it about him?

Oh, yeah. Enthusiasm. Nijimura might have had enough energy for that once.


	4. Chapter 4

20\. Innocence (Furuhashi Koujirou, Tsuchida Satoshi)

They all seem like innocent kids, for the most part, maybe some of them are a little bit jaded or teetering on the brink—but they're what one would call "good" kids. They believe wholeheartedly in achieving some sort of goal they consider to be noble and pure; maybe it is. (It doesn't matter if the goal is pure, only that they won't be achieving it.) That one guy on the bench with the closed eyes seems oddly the happiest of the bunch—perhaps because he doesn't play as much, doesn't get into those moments when basketball feels like an unrewarding chore. He's the most innocent of all, and Furuhashi happens to see the moment when his eyes open in surprise as that guy Makoto's been targeting falls, when that innocence drains from him as if his body has become a sieve and it's beautifully awful and Furuhashi thinks, this is why I play.

21\. Roar (Touou, Rakuzan)

The next time Touou plays Rakuzan, in a practice match, Akashi okays Aomine's participation. Aomine shows up on time and ready, and it all seems to be going okay until Nebuya makes the mistake of dissing Touou within Aomine's earshot. What results is nearly a full-scale brawl, with Aomine pulling in Wakamatsu to help out, Hayama biting Aomine's writs hard enough to draw blood and the referees unable to decide who is at fault and allowing both sides to compete. It's less a basketball game than it is a devastating battle, with Wakamatsu almost breaking his wrist from dunking so hard and Hayama running so fast and hard the momentum from a layup makes him keep going and crash into the wall. All in all, no injuries are sustained. Akashi's amused grin is more than a little suspect, though.

22\. Milk (Kawahara Kouichi, Koganei Shinji)

Koganei is still wheezing ten minutes after Kawahara tells him that he should like to drink milk because he looks like a cat. There's something that strikes him as incredibly amusing in the combination of the ridiculous words and his underclassman's absolute sincerity. Hyuuga kicks both of them in the head and gives them twenty more laps, and Koganei tries to look away through the first five. They're keeping perfect pace with each other, though, so it's only a matter of time, and this time Kawahara gets it, too, and they're both rolling on the floor.

23\. Hunger (Aida Riko)

Aida Riko has been surrounded by hunger all her life. Growing up at the gym, she's seen athletes desperate to come back from injuries their second and third and fourth opinions have dismissed as career-ending, desperate to prove doubters and haters wrong. She's seen intense, one-sided rivalries burn in the eyes of the tennis player who wrapped her elbow for thirty minutes and then went back to exercising it, of the marathoner who ran lap after lap after lap, trying for the perfect pace to shave just seconds off of his mileage—forget the longing for food in the eyes of her fat classmate or the zeal with which that one kid thirsts for perfect grades. This is true starvation, an empty desire that should have burned out by now but keeps feeding itself against all odds. And unintentionally she fills herself with that hunger—it's not directed at anything yet, but she can feel it deep inside of her and no matter how much water she throws on it the droplets evaporate and vanish into the air around her because the hunger inside of her is untouchable and unsatiable.

24\. Basically Idiots (Uncrowned Kings)

"They're so gross, Mako-chan," says Reo, scrunching up his nose. Makoto rolls his eyes. What the fuck is he supposed to do about them? He was about to try and make a quick getaway, but then of course Reo just had to fucking latch his arms around Makoto's shoulders and start whining about Teppei and Eikichi's impromptu eating contest. If they want to stuff themselves until they explode, well, it certainly makes it easier for Makoto. He doesn't even have to move a muscle; they'll break themselves. Reo sighs again for dramatic effect and Makoto elbows him hard in the ribs.

"Ow! Mako-chan, what was that for?"

Makoto pointedly ignores him. Reo pouts and apparently they've decided to annoy Makoto in shifts, because Kotarou leaps on top of him and the chair topples over backwards. Makoto has experience falling the right way, and he manages to dig his heel into Kotarou's ankle. Still, Kotarou's all bones and sinewy muscle and the chair's not soft either and it fucking hurts and Kotarou kicked him in the calf and now there's a footprint on his pants and ugh. Why the fuck does he even hang out with these people?

25\. Mama's Boy (Izuki Shun)

He's nervous, but tells himself it's really nothing to worry about—coach will understand. "I can't make it to practice today; I'm sorry."

She looks up from her lunch. "You'd better have a damn good reason."

"It's my little sister's birthday today."

Riko drops her chopsticks. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"It's important!"

"It's okay," Hyuuga interjects. "Izuki has a bit of a sister complex."

"I do not."

"Yeah, you do," says Koganei. "He seriously threatened Kiyoshi because he thought he made a move on her."

"Izuki, didn't you say that the team comes first?" Riko says, folding her arms across her chest.

"Well, yeah…but…my sister will be so disappointed. She's counting on me! I can't ruin her birthday."

"I seriously doubt that you not being there will ruin her birthday." Riko glares.

Izuki throws up his hand. "It's just one practice! My mom wouldn't be happy with me, either, if I miss this."

"That's right; he's a mama's boy, too."

"Shut up, Koga, I am not. Is it so bad to want to make your mother happy? She's worked so hard raising us."

"Doesn't your sister understand you have an obligation to the basketball team?" Riko is almost hysterical by this point.

"You're the one who doesn't get it."

Hyuuga places his hand on Riko's shoulder. She brushes it off, but Hyuuga says, "It's fine. Go to the party. You'll have to do extra laps tomorrow, Mama's Boy."

26\. Not Isolated (Uncrowned Kings)

"It must be lonely," Reo says, biting his lip. It's obvious who he's talking about, and Teppei would have to agree with him here. It must be very lonely being one of the Generation of Miracles.

Truthfully, Teppei isn't sure if Reo knows the whole story (or even as much as Kuroko was willing to disclose to Teppei and the rest of the Seirin team). It's obvious, though; it was obvious a few years ago and it's obvious now how isolated they are, from the world and from each other. There's no one there really to compete with them on an individual level; their highly specialized skill sets are unique. There's nothing to discourage them or for them to set a benchmark by, nothing there haunting them the way the memories of Murasakibara absolutely crushing him haunts Teppei still.

The weight of the things they carry, the burden of a crown, those are things that Teppei's awfully glad he doesn't have to deal with. And he never stopped loving basketball for itself, never fully hid from himself how fun it is. It was never completely not fun, never just a business or an exercise in futility. It was all about winning, success, and that was the be all and end all for the Miracles, something none of the Kings—even spread across five schools—ever came close to tasting in middle school.

There are things deeper than victory, more sure than victory, and each of them is searching for that meaning and they're damn well closer than any of the Miracles. Teppei has a team he can believe in, a team that gives its all. Eikichi has steady hands that pass him the ball. Makoto has people willing to follow his strategy. Reo doesn't have to uphold any type of tradition on his own anymore. Kotarou can go wild without worrying about having to restrain himself. None of them is on his own; it's been like that since day one. Unlimited talent is a blessing, something Teppei would have an awfully hard time saying no to if he was offered. But it's not worth the loneliness, and he's sure the others would agree.

27\. Senior's Hardship (Ootsubo Taisuke)

It's so hard to act mature sometimes. People tell Ootsubo that he must be under a lot of pressure as the captain of the Shutoku basketball team, but they're not talking about this kind of pressure. They assume that he's already mature enough and such a natural leader that he won't have the urge to goof off, but they're wrong. Sometimes he wants to kick the freshmen's asses as much as Miyaji does because they're being lazy or unreasonable or over-the-top annoying, but he has to sit back and watch Miyaji yell and Kimura hand him the fruit or offer the use of his truck.

He can't be too nice to the freshmen, but he has to learn all of their names and let them know they can rely on him and be there for them and help them become better players—not that he's complaining, but there's more than he expected, more that they don't tell him and that he has to observe, faults in their steps that are rooted in troubles that have nothing to do with basketball.

It's worth it, though, in the end, when the team clicks and despite Miyaji's grumbling they're all working hard and making the plays and they're all worrying a little bit less and it's easier to pull the rebounds in and pass the ball and shoot it with certainty. They hold their heads a little higher and run a little faster. It's worth it to see Midorima's shy smile that he thinks no one catches when he tightens the red scarf around his neck in the cold. It's worth it to see each and every freshman improve something, or multiple things—in just a year they've all come so far. But it hasn't been easy.

28\. Big Finish (Ishida Hideki)

This is supposed to be his big finish, going out on top and leaving his mark on the high school basketball career before going onward to college and maybe the pros—but it's not. It's all about Haizaki, stealing the moment the way he steals the ball and the moves. Ishida is shunted aside, irrelevant, an afterthought in the match writeups. Fukuda Sogo is an afterthought, not even in the semifinals. Instead of leaving in a blaze of glory, he's crawling out of a charred remain that can't even be called a legacy.

29\. Tutoring (Wakamatsu Kousuke, Susa Yoshinori)

Wakamatsu's pen makes quick scratches on the paper, and he furrows his brow and pokes his tongue between his teeth. Susa can't help but smile—this is the third time Wakamatsu has tried to do this type of problem, and he's frustrated but he's willing to put in the effort to just try again and see if it works. He slams the pen on the table and looks Susa squarely in the eye.

"I'm finished."

Susa looks it over, checking the calculations against the key. Not bad. He's done everything as Susa told him to, and he double-checked his work, which saved his ass in the end because he messed up on several of the calculations the first time around. "Good job."

The look of proud relief on Wakamatsu's face is evident. Susa reaches out to ruffle his hair. Wakamatsu blushes. "What was that for?"

"For working hard," says Susa. These team-mandated tutoring sessions have been pretty damn hard, and how Susa got stuck tutoring math instead of one of his stronger subjects he'll never know, but it's actually been quite rewarding to work with Wakamatsu and correct his habits and teach him the methods. Even if he's embarrassed about his bad grades and hates the subject, he puts in the effort and he's a very good listener when he stops shouting.

Imayoshi had bemoaned their lack of cute kouhai on the basketball team (the one thing he claimed to be looking forward to about the new school hear) but Susa will have to disagree with him. Wakamatsu's quite cute.

30\. Mario Kart (Kirisaki Daiichi)

"Why can't I be Daisy?" Yamazaki whines.

"Shut up," says Hara. "I always do better when I have Daisy. Do you want to be switched out for Seto?"

"He's asleep!"

Seto is indeed asleep, mask over his eyes and drooling on Furuhashi's shoulder. Hara and Yamazaki both start sniggering.

"Shut up and just pick your characters," says Hanamiya. "Or I'll pick for you."

"Fine, fine, I'll be Waluigi," says Yamazaki.

Furuhashi chomps down voraciously on his sandwich.

"Dude, if your eyes weren't so dead I'd think you were getting excited about this," says Yamazaki.

Furuhashi ignores him, wipes his hands, and grips his controller.

They all start mashing away before the race even starts. Hanamiya nearly crushes his controller and screams when he gets caught in one of the dumbest traps.

"Yes, speed boost," says Hara. "Choo, choo, motherfuckers! Get it, because I'm the train?"

Furuhashi elbows him in the chin. "Whoops."

They're all on the final lap and Seto is still asleep—Furuhashi really doesn't move erratically or very much at all outside of his deft fingers. His flat eyes are focused on his screen.

"Goddamn it, why am I in last place?" Hanamiya yells.

Hara crashes his car into Yamazaki's.

"Hey, fuck you," says Yamazaki. "Hey, fuck you, too," he says a moment later when Hanamiya passes him.

"Kiss my ass," says Hara.

Furuhashi crosses the finish line and puts down his controller. "It seems I've won."

"God fucking damn it!" Hanamiya yells. "This is my house. I should win!"

"That makes zero sense," says Yamazaki. Hara has secured second place. Hanamiya grabs Yamazaki's controller and uses his own to propel himself toward the end. Yamazaki snatches it back. Hanamiya crosses the finish line.

"Ha, ha, you got third," says Yamazaki.

"You lost," says Furuhashi.

"Yeah, but I didn't claim to be some kind of Mario Kart wizard," says Yamazaki.

Hanamiya chucks his controller at Yamazaki's head.


End file.
